One of a Hart
by JJHart4
Summary: Everyone knows how Jonathan met Jennifer, but how did Jonathan meet Max?
1. Chapter 1

One of a Hart

**San Francisco- 1957**

Max strolled along the street, glancing at the shops as he passed them. They were mainly for women's clothing; slim mannequins twisted their plastic bodies to show off the expensive clothes they wore. A cold wind began to blow, and Max pulled his jacket tighter around him as he continued on past the shops. It was a typical winter day in San Francisco. People bustled around him, barely looking up as they hurried to get out of the cold. Max heard a call, just discernible from the noise of the wind.  
"Papers for sale! Ten cents a paper! Papers for sale!..."  
Max continued on, following the crowd ahead of him as it rounded a corner to the next street. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind tore along the sidewalk, knocking people's hats off and pushing everyone momentarily off-balance. Max felt something hit his leg. Looking down, he picked up the black and white newspaper, moulded to the shape of his leg by the wind. He straightened up, holding the paper.  
"Hey, that's mine! Oh… sorry, sir," said a voice. Max looked up. A young boy of about fifteen stood in front of him, his blue eyes apologetic. He wore a checked tweed cap, his straight brown hair underneath ruffled around his hollow cheek bones. His patched coat was an ugly shade of green-brown, and it looked about two sizes too big for him. His lips were tinged blue, not matching the pink of his nose and cheeks. Although he was reed-thin, Max could see he was a handsome lad.  
"That's okay, kid. Here, I'll buy it," said Max, reaching into his pocket and handing the boy fifty cents.  
"Sir, it's only ten cents..." the boy began to protest. Max marvelled at the kid's honesty- most people in his position would take the money, no questions asked. Max waved his hand dismissively.  
"Take it, son. You look like you need it more than I do," said Max, thrusting the money into the boy's gloved hands. The boy stared at the silver coins in his hands, his blue eyes wide and disbelieving. Max smiled to himself, and, tucking the newspaper under his arm, began to move past the boy.  
"Thank you, sir!" called the boy, recovering himself. Max turned and waved in acknowledgement, and continued on down the sidewalk as the boy returned to his stack of newspapers. Max felt warm inside, thinking the boy might get a decent meal that night, but as he turned into his street, the warmth began to disappear. Sure, he was fine for that night, but what about tomorrow, or next week, or next month? But maybe, thought Max, as he trudged up the steps to his front door, he was just helping his father out by earning some extra dough- maybe his father had a poor income. He felt a little comforted by this idea, but as he turned his key in the lock, he still couldn't shake the boy from his thoughts.

He saw the boy every day for the rest of that week, always selling the papers, calling loudly above the whistling wind. Max bought a paper every time he saw the boy, and every time, the boy thanked him with honest gratitude.  
The next week, the boy had a red scarf wrapped around his thin neck. Max grinned at him as he bought the paper that morning, glad that he'd used the money to keep himself warm. But still, Max wasn't satisfied. Something was still missing, but Max couldn't quite put his finger on it. That evening, he walked home with his hands buried deep in his pockets, thinking hard. By the time he'd reached the front door, a plan began to form in his mind…


	2. Chapter 2

Max turned the corner and automatically glanced up where the boy normally stood, selling his papers as usual. But today his part of the sidewalk was filled with people on their way to work. Max looked around, standing on tiptoe to peer over everyone, in case the boy was just standing somewhere else. But he was nowhere to be found. Max's brow furrowed in confusion, and suddenly, he needed a brandy. He saw his favourite bar across the road and went to the edge of the busy street to wait for a break in the steady flow of traffic. There was a three metre space between a taxi and a Volvo, and he took his chance. He ran in front of it and onto the traffic island for a second, and then dashed onto the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding a parked car. Max stared at it for a second, and then reached out to open the door into the bar. But just as he touched the cold metal of the door handle, he heard a loud smashing noise from the inside, and several male voices shouting. Quickly, he pushed the door open, curious to see what was happening. As he hung up his hat on his usual hook, he heard another smashing noise, and the scrape of chairs being pushed away from tables.  
"Pay me back, you little runt…!" yelled a man. The whole bar was in uproar; Max could barely hear himself think. He turned around and stood on his toes in an attempt to try and see what was going on.  
"I've called the police, they're on their way!" someone yelled over the rabble. Even as he said it, Max thought he could hear sirens. Wanting to see who was causing all the commotion, he stood up on an empty chair to search the crowd, which was at that moment, just a crowd. But then he saw four people- the bartender behind the bar, a black telephone beside him, another man with his fists raised and the last man holding up a scrawny person who seemed strangely familiar…  
Suddenly, Max's mouth dropped open as he realised it was the boy. The man had him by his collar, and his feet dangled uselessly above the ground. Meanwhile, the sirens had grown louder, and Max heard them outside. The boy lashed out with his foot, kicking and twisting in an attempt to get free. The other man opposite him lowered his fists and chuckled nastily.  
"Maybe they'll teach you not to steal in jail, you flea," he sneered. The boy glared at him, and suddenly, he brought his right leg up, kicking the man hard in the stomach. He stumbled back, winded, and the boy took the moment to fling his left arm behind. It smashed into the nose of the man who held him, and he automatically let go, bringing his hands up to his face. The boy dropped to the floor, and dodged another man who tried to grab him as he slid across a table, tipping it over to block his pursuers' way. Quickly, Max turned and opened the door, crashing into a policeman as he came in. He barely paused to apologise as he ran outside and around the corner into the alley. He sped up the steps and wrenched open the heavy door, finding himself in the bar's storeroom. He ran out into the short corridor as suddenly, the boy jumped lightly over a pile of empty crates and crashed into Max. He began to cry out in surprise, but Max clamped a hand over his mouth.  
"It's alright, kid. It's me," he whispered, grinning at the boy, but the fear didn't completely leave the boy's eyes. Keeping a tight hold on his skinny arm, he dragged the boy back down the corridor and into the storeroom, opening the back door as quietly as possible. He glanced down the alley briefly, and, seeing it was empty, he pulled the boy down the steps, and together they hurried down the alley. They didn't stop running until they were two streets away, safely standing behind a bus stop.  
When Max finally got his breath back, he straightened up to look at the boy.  
"Sir, please… you're not going to turn me in, are you?" the boy asked, his blue eyes pleading.  
"That depends on what you did. If you murdered someone…"  
"No, sir! I would never!…" began the boy, looking shocked.  
"It's alright, kid- I was just teasing you. But what happened? How did you get yourself into a situation like that?"  
"Well, I was getting really cold, and I thought I could sell the papers better inside. So I went into the bar and started waving them around. After a while, no one wanted any, and I was real hungry, sir. And there was this cup of something hot just sitting on the table, and no one seemed to be claiming it. So I began to drink it, and the next thing I know, I'm being grabbed and hit and yelled at for being a thief. Then the bartender said I was too young to be in there, and he called the police," said the boy, but he didn't look at Max.  
"So that was all you did? You didn't…. accidentally take anything from the man?" Max asked. The boy looked at the ground.  
"Well, I might've taken a few things that day, but I was real hungry, sir! And no one was paying me, so I thought I'd just get by like I always do," said the boy.  
"By stealing, you mean."  
The boy looked up at Max, a little bit of guilt shining in his eyes. Max sighed.  
"Son, what about all the money I've been paying you? I mean you got that scarf, and I thought you were getting a few good meals…" Max trailed off as the boy looked at the ground again.  
"Or did you steal those, too?" Max guessed. The boy nodded.  
"And the scarf?" Max prompted.  
"The money went so quick, sir. There ain't no one but you who buys my papers," said the boy.  
"But surely some people still pay you?"  
The boy looked up in surprise at him. "No, sir. Why should anyone care for someone like me? I'm just a kid who sells papers. No one can care less whether I get food or not. But I still gotta survive, don't I? So that's why I steal."  
He stared steadily up at Max, his blue eyes shining brightly, and suddenly, Max realised what a cruel world they lived in. The kid was right- no one cared. He cleared his throat.  
"I just realised- I've been buying papers off you for weeks, and I don't even know your name," said Max.  
"Jonathan, sir. Jonathan Hart," the boy answered, and smiled. Max grinned back, lighting a cigar.  
"Nice to officially meet you, Jonathan. You can call me Max," he said, and shook Jonathan's hand.  
"If you'd like… Max," said Jonathan, hesitantly.  
"Sure. We're both men, aren't we?" said Max, grinning. Jonathan smiled back.  
"Well, after all this commotion, I'd sure like a cup of hot coffee. How about I buy you one, too?" suggested Max. Jonathan's blue eyes lit up.  
"Yes please," said Jonathan.  
"Okay. Come on, kid," said Max, putting an arm around Jonathan's bony shoulders. They headed down the sidewalk, and Max led the way to a small coffee shop at the end of the street. The scent of fresh coffee washed over them as they went inside and made their way over to a booth in the corner. Max watched Jonathan as he stared all around him in wonder, feeling sorry for the poor kid. He'd probably never been in a place like this before. A waitress came over to them.  
"What would you two gentlemen like this morning?" she asked, holding a pad and pencil.  
"I'll have a latte, please, and I think a hot chocolate for the boy. That sound alright, kid?" Max asked, glancing at Jonathan. He nodded silently, his mouth still hanging open in awe. The waitress moved away.  
"So, tell me about yourself, Jonathan. How come a kid like you is on the street selling papers and living a life of crime? Or are you helping your dad out by earning an extra few bucks?" asked Max.  
"No, Max-"  
"Your mum, then. She's working hard but needs a good strong kid like you to help her?"  
Jonathan shook his head.  
"Then what? No, wait! I got it- your parents don't work so you're working instead of them," said Max.  
"No, Max. I don't have any family- I don't have any parents. I'm an orphan," said Jonathan. That brought Max up short. His one hope for this poor kid was gone.  
"Oh. I'm sorry, Jonathan. I didn't realise…"  
"That's okay, Max. I don't worry about it, because I don't know what it's like to have a family, anyway," said Jonathan.  
"So how did you get to be selling papers?" asked Max.  
"I grew up in the San Francisco Orphanage. But a few months back, I was sent away, because I turned fifteen. They don't keep you at the orphanage after you're too old. Folks just don't want you. So I was sent off by myself, and I've been selling papers ever since," said Jonathan. They were silent for a moment as the waitress came over and put their drinks down.  
"Thanks," they both said, and she nodded before moving away again. Max took sip of his hot coffee, the steam warm on his face, but noticed Jonathan hadn't picked his drink up.  
"Are you gonna drink it or just stare at it?" Max asked. Jonathan looked up at him, and then back at the drink.  
"I don't know. I'm still trying to decide whether I'll be accused as a thief or not," answered Jonathan. Again, Max felt a wave of pity wash over him. The kid probably hadn't eaten a proper meal in a long time. He leant forward and touched Jonathan's arm lightly.  
"Don't worry. It won't go anywhere," Max said softly. Jonathan looked up at him, and nodded. Slowly, he cupped both his hands around the mug and brought it up to his blue lips.  
"Careful. Don't burn yourself," warned Max, as Jonathan took a sip. He felt the warmth flood through him as the hot liquid slipped down his throat, and Max could almost see the colour returning to his face.  
"Better?"  
"Yeah. I've never tasted anything like it," said Jonathan, his blue eyes shining in excitement. Max grinned at him, and then, he knew without a doubt that he was making the right choice.  
"Jonathan, I want to ask you something serious, and you don't have to say yes if you don't want to. I think you're old enough to make your own decisions," said Max.  
Jonathan waited politely.  
"I'm very lonely in San Francisco- I don't have a wife, well… not anymore. We're divorced, but that's not the point. I'm moving to Los Angeles in a few weeks, and it's a big city. I think I'll get lost without someone with me, and since I don't have any friends there, I thought maybe you could come with me?" asked Max.  
Jonathan stared at him.  
"I mean, you don't have to, if you don't want to…" said Max hastily, seeing his expression.  
"You want me to come with you? Like on a holiday?" Jonathan asked.  
"Well…yeah, but I sort of thought that maybe it could be more permanent. You could think of it as a lifelong holiday with Max," he grinned.  
"Wait, Max- you actually…do you mean that you want to…" Jonathan took a breath. "Adopt me?"  
Max nodded. "You got it, kid. I mean, it's legal, right? You're not at the orphanage anymore so the only person I have to ask is you. So what do you say Jonathan? Do you want to live with me?" asked Max.  
"But, I- I… I don't know anything about being in a family…" said Jonathan, looking worried.  
"You know, I got this kind of motto that I live by. Sometimes, you just gotta get on with the exciting business of life. It's gonna be an adventure every step of the way- we'll help each other along. We can both get used to it at the same time," said Max.  
Jonathan considered this, his forehead creasing. Then, his confused expression cleared, and he looked up, giving Max a wide smile.  
"Okay, Max."  
"Okay, Jonathan." Max stood up. "Then let's go get on with the exciting business of life."


	3. Chapter 3

**Los Angeles- 1969 **

"Hey, Max, come on! I don't want you to miss this!" called Jonathan from the living room.  
Max put down the cake he had just brought out of the oven, laying it gently on the counter. He slipped off his oven mitts and left them next to the cake, pushing open the kitchen door as he went. Jonathan stood in the living room, surrounded by his friends, all holding glasses of sparkling champagne. Jonathan's girlfriend, Nikki Stefanos, had her arm slung around his shoulder, and was gazing at him in adoration.  
"We're just about to toast the successful opening of Jonathan Hart Industries," explained Jack Fulton, one of Jonathan's colleagues.  
"Right," said Max, and took the glass that Arnold offered him. Jack held up his glass.  
"To Jonathan Hart Industries: May it grow to be everything we know it will become."  
Everyone drank. Jack turned to Jonathan, Nikki and Max as the babble of talk rose again.  
"I gotta say, Jonathan- you're doing great work. How did you manage to get everything organised in such a short amount of time? I mean, you grew up in an orphanage and look at you now- the CEO of a new company!" exclaimed Jack.  
"Well, Jack, you can't forget Max. He's the one who started me off," said Jonathan. Jack turned to Max.  
"You found him, Max?" asked Jack, sounding surprised. "How did that happen?"  
"When I was living in San Francisco, I met this kid one day, selling papers on the street," said Max, grinning. "He was a scrawny kid- real skinny. I saw him every day of that week, and at the end of the week, I went into this bar. I heard this commotion and I look in and see the kid! I dragged him out the back of the bar when the police were coming in the front, and once everything calmed down a little, I talked to him. I don't know what it was, but there was something about this kid that had made me keep thinking about him. Maybe it was his good looks, even though he was stick-thin. Maybe it was his politeness- I don't know. Something made me realise how great he would become, and I knew I had to be the one to start him off, otherwise, who would? So here we are today, and look what's become of it," said Max, proudly clapping Jonathan on the back.  
"So you moved to Los Angeles?" pressed Jack.  
"Yeah. Straight out of college, he was already on his way to doing well in life."  
"How come you two are still together, after all these years? Didn't you want to have your own place, Jonathan?" asked Jack.  
"Well, Jack…" said Jonathan, putting down his glass. "Max is…well, my family. He led me away from my life of crime, and I think that I didn't want to finish without him. So, when I bought this apartment, I knew that Max was looking for employment as a houseman, so I asked him if he wanted to work for me. That way, we're still together," said Jonathan, smiling at Max.  
"And I hear you're moving, Jonathan," said Jack, draining the last of his champagne.  
"Yes. It's a really nice place- thirty one hundred Willow Pond road. We're moving next week. It's closer to Hart Industries, which makes everything a lot easier," said Jonathan.  
"But you're not moving with him, Nikki?" asked Jack, turning to her.  
"No, Jack. I'm staying in my apartment, because I didn't want to attract any extra publicity to Jonathan. The press would be all over the place if we moved in together," answered Nikki.  
Jack nodded. Mike, another colleague came up to them.  
"Jonathan, I want to show you something. I've had another idea about the stock intakes…" said Mike, and he lead Jonathan and Nikki over to where he had laid out a number of sheets, leaving Jack and Max alone.  
"Gee, they're getting along well, eh Max?" said Jack, watching Nikki and Jonathan, arms around each other's waists. "Think we'll be hearing wedding bells sometime soon?"  
"No, I don't really think so. I mean, Nikki's a nice girl, but I'm not sure how long it'll last. I just don't think she's the one for Mr H," said Max, putting down his glass. "Excuse me, Jack. I just gotta get this cake out before everyone leaves." Max turned and went back into the kitchen, still thinking about his conversation with Jack as he took a knife out of the drawer to slice the cake. It was true- Nikki Stefanos was a nice enough girl, but with Jonathan becoming more famous every day, and her publicity already big enough for the two of them, he really didn't think it would last. She just wasn't the right girl for Jonathan. Putting the knife down, Max picked up the cake and headed for the door once more.

**London- 1976  
**What's the point in doing this part? We all know what happens…:)

The End


End file.
